Begun, the Clone War has
by Daxius X
Summary: Ch.10 UPDATED! The Clone Wars have ravaged the galaxy for 2 months. Trapped in a Tusken camp, half of the crew of the FireStorm must try to escape, whilst the other half seem to be in trouble of their own...
1. Activation

_A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away..._

* * *

Boot Up...

System Diagnostic...

No Errors Found...

Activating...

"T3? T3-S6, can you hear me?"

* * *

"I think he's working," said Daxius to Piotr. A mercenary and bounty hunter by trade, Daxius sported a shiny black battle suit over his lean frame, complete with dual Bayne-7 heavy blaster pistols at his side. On his head rested a helm with a dark, transparisteel 'X' visor. 

"I'll have to test him out just to be sure," replied Piotr. The four-armed Besalisk hefted up the heavy T3 unit with relative ease and moved him down the corridor towards the droid room.

"HK-7 will help you out," offered Orian, motioning towards the negotiations droid in the corner, who promptly moved to follow with a certain flowing grace.

"As you wish, Master," he responded as the female Twi'lek tossed one blue lekku over her shoulder.

T3-S6 meanwhile was connected to the ships computer and downloading information on the crew.

* * *

**Daxius**

_Species:_ Human

_Captain_

**Piotr**

_Species:_ Besalisk

_Technician_

**Orian**

_Species:_ Twi'lek

_Strategist_

**Walush**

_Species:_ Dug

_Pilot_

**Yiddles**

_Species:_ Whill

_Saboteur_

**HK-7**

_Model:_ Negotiations Droid

_Assassin_

* * *

Twittering happily, T3-S6 added itself proudly onto the list. 

**T3-S6**

_Model:_ Astromech Droid

_Repairs_

* * *

"Well, we've had to escape Ryloth pretty quickly, so I brought us into the Rishi Maze for cover. Looks like we're clear of it now, but one of their shots knocked out our navicomputer, so until we can land somewhere and recalibrate we're pretty much lost," explained the Dug. Bringing up a viewscreen, he indicated a system ahead. "Now I've analysed the closest system and it's not registering. Which is very strange because our maps..." 

"...were pilfered from the Jedi Archives not long ago, yes, I'm aware of that, Walush. What I need to know is if we can make it to that system," Daxius cut in.

"Well, no problems with our hyperdrive, and I'd say that we'll need to make a jump of about a parsec or so to get there." With that Daxius nodded.

"Oh and by the way," said Walush, as Daxius started to head out, "Tell Yiddles he still owes me 23 credits from our last game of pazaak."

* * *

'Blam!' 

'BoomboomBlam!'

'Tseww-Tseew...'

"Having fun, Yiddles?" queried Daxius as he stepped into the holoroom. "You know you can't win against HK."

"Beat him I will, laugh then you will not!" exclaimed the little green Whill. With shoulder-length hair and a grand total height of two and a half feet, Yiddles was often underestimated in battle. His amazing acrobatics and staff-mastery was soon impressed though, because he had a streak of pride quite rare among his species.

"Master Piddles has once again done a satisfactory job, for a little meatbag," stated HK-7.

"Not Piddles!! Yiddles!! Yid-DLES!" cried the Whill, and he launched into a volley of attacks with his poko staff at the droid. Daxius just chuckled and turned back into the corridor.

* * *

"Well then, it seems you're working perfectly! What luck I stumbled on your schematics back on Taris," said Piotr, giving himself a pat on the back. He was very pleased with the modified T3 unit he had built, finding him much more versatile than the newer multi-task R4 astromechs. Suddenly he heard a series of whistles from T3-S6. 

"BWOOP! Bweet-Boop-BWEEE!"

"Es-six? What's..." His eyes fell as he saw a display flashing on a viewscreen in the wall. "...wrong?"

* * *

Taking off his helm, Daxius opened the door to his bunk on the FireFly Cruiser ship. Flicking on the switch, he was greeted by a Rutian Twi'lek who looked slightly annoyed. 

"Reiterate _why _we have to share a room again?" she asked, as Daxius placed his helm on a nearby end-table.

"Well, what with Piotr needing the big room..." started the mercenary.

"Why couldn't I share a room with my HK droid?" argued Orian.

"Well, I just _had _to see Yiddles' face when I said he'd be sharing with HK..." continued Daxius, sitting down next to her.

"And Walush?..." murmured the Twi'lek.

"He snores..." muttered Daxius.

They were silent for a moment, gazing at each other. They leaned forward, and...

_"-THE SHIP IS UNDER ATTACK! I REPEAT, THE SHIP IS UNDER ATTACK! EVERYONE, TO YOUR BATTLE STATIONS!!!-"_


	2. Under Attack

Last Time...

* * *

Taking off his helm, Daxius opened the door to his bunk on the FireStorm Cruiser ship. Flicking on the switch, he was greeted by a blue Twi'lek that looked slightly annoyed. 

"Reiterate _why _we have to share a room again?" she asked, as Daxius placed his helm on a nearby end-table.

"Well, what with Piotr needing the big room..." started the mercenary.

"Why couldn't I share a room with my HK droid?" argued Orian.

"Well, I just _had _to see Yiddles' face when I said he'd be sharing with HK-7..." continued Daxius, sitting down next to her.

"And Walush?..." murmured the Twi'lek.

"He snores..." muttered Daxius.

They were silent for a moment, gazing at each other. They leaned forward, and...

_"-THE SHIP IS UNDER ATTACK! I REPEAT, THE SHIP IS UNDER ATTACK! EVERYONE, TO YOUR BATTLE STATIONS!!!-"_

* * *

HK-7 heard the announcement with glee. 

"Well Master Piddles, to battle!" he cried in his mechanical voice, and clenched his three fingered fists with a crackle of energy. The Hunter-Killer Module 7's eyes seemed to glow electric blue for a moment.

"Yiddles!" muttered the bat-eared Whill as he scampered out the training room towards the dock. "Stupid droid..."

Yiddles hurried through the corridor, the sirens insistent wails making his sensitive ears ache slightly. He took two right turns and almost crashed into Piotr in his haste.

"Whoa! Watch it! Wouldn't want you outta commission before the dogfight starts!" chortled the large four-armed alien. Piotr himself was lumbering towards the docks, glad that he had made recent modifications to his fighter and hoping that they worked.

* * *

Walush the Dug was frantically rushing about the cockpit, turning switches and pressing buttons with vigour using all four of his limbs. He switched on the shields and rotated the large ship around to meet the attackers. The Cruiser turned with great dexterity for its size, thanks to the large directional boosters equipped to the end. The missile hatches flew open, and the targeting computers calibrated the blaster co-ordinates. 

"If only you were mine," said the Dug, kissing the console lightly on the screen.

* * *

T3-S6 trundled along, desperately trying to keep up with the HK-7 droid ahead of it. 

"Bweep-bwoo-beep-pip!" it protested.

"If you can't keep up, Jawa-scrap, I'm not slowing down!" retorted the assassin droid. It raced forward at vast speeds, its spiked feet gaining leverage and its powered legs seeming almost spring-loaded. "I'm not going to lose any action just for you!"

With an angry buzz, T3-S6 activated its jet throttles, hurtling forward ahead of HK-7 with another whistle, before entering the dock.

"Same to me?! We'll see about that, you little bucket of bolts!"

* * *

Daxius and Orian ran swiftly down the hallway, Daxius' long thin side-braid flying behind him, Orian's lekku behind her. They both made it to their fighters in time to see the rest of the crew take off out the airlock. Piotr's massive droplet shaped fighter blasted out, its spiked tip trailing behind it. Yiddles' small trident-like vessel followed right after. HK-7 and T3-S6 were still getting into Walush's ship, a strange pronged vehicle that resembled a pod-racing unit. As Orian stepped into her elegant fighter that resembled an Alderaan four-winged hummingbird-hawk, Daxius tapped frantically away at the console to disengage the docking claws. With a quick status check he found the FireStorm Crusier itself ready to attack with maximum shields up. 

"Good job, Walush," he said as he logged out.

He sprinted towards his customized SpitFire Jet Fighter and leapt into the seat, strapping on his safety harness as the hatch sealed around him and the two droids piloting Walush's ship sped off. Orian's ship was primed and ready the engines humming to life and the controls glowing. She activated her shields as Daxius did the same. Wing to wing, they both took off out of the docking bay, their faces both set in an expression of determination.

* * *

"Walush, what's the nature of the attack?" commed Orian as she headed towards the enemy ships. 

"Seems to be Planetary Defence, not pirates. Their ships all seem to be standard issue, they're all the same, and their in a defensive Delta formation. No Pirates are this organized. You guys know what this means," said the Dug through the comms.

"Yeah yeah, shoot to disable," muttered Daxius. "Wouldn't want us to be exiled from another planet, would we, Walush?"

"Hey, Druckenwell was an accident. I didn't know that was a _lethal virus_ I introduced into the water system!" the Dug replied angrily.

"So why were you laughing at them while they melted?" asked Orian dryly.

"I thought it was some cool trick! _Stars_, one little mistake..."

"_Five thousand_ little lives..." continued Piotr.

"It's all that stupid HK-7's fault! He said it was a purifier!" accused Walush.

"Well, it _purified_ a lot of meatbags, did it not?" questioned the HK unit in a mechanical whisper.

"Heads up, everyone, we're about to enter line of sight." Daxius tightened his grip on the controls as the squadron of white fighters came into view. "Remember, to disable only," he repeated.

"That means you too, HK," said Orian sternly.

"What?!" cried the assassin droid, as the astromech perched atop the cockpit offered a choice amount of whistles and beeps.

"Hey, don't make me come up there!" yelled HK-7 at Essix, who merely chirruped in amusement. "You'd like to see me try?! I'll show you..."

"Hey, cut it out you two, we're almost in range!" yelled Orian as she swerved her ship to dodge the first few stray blasts.

Piotr manoeuvred his arms to direct the four bubble turrets on his ship towards a white fighter. With a squeeze of the triggers he knocked out its engines. Taking care and aiming once again, Piotr managed to disable two more fighters as they flew towards his ship.

HK-7 grumbled as he easily manoeuvred the ship with the grudging help of Essix. They, together, managed to shoot the engines clean off one ship, while disabling another's blasters. The first fighter drifted, to be picked up by the second's mini tractor beam which it used to tow the immobilized ship out of the fray. "What fun's non lethal shooting?" wondered the droid aloud.

Orian herself was in a spot of a bit more trouble. The white fighters had flanked her and surrounded her, and she was starting to get disoriented from all the swerving she had to do to dodge their peppering blasts. She signalled Walush and set off a blinding flash of light, her minor EMP jamming blast stunning all who were nearby. The white fighters seemed to hesitate for a moment, and in that moment twelve homing missiles shot from the FireStorm and disabled twelve enemy fighters, which then proceeded to drift in space.

"Nice work, you two," complimented Daxius as he flew in to finish off the last fighter, a blue stripes on white Jet that dodged with precise ease from the issuing blasts from Daxius' SpitFire. Daxius furrowed his brow in concentration. This one was a toughie. He sped towards the Jet, giving chase as it weaved among its disabled brothers. With a jolt Daxius realised the fighter was heading towards Piotr and Orians' ships. Before he could signal them the fight managed to fire upon them, but thanks to their reflexes the two were only disabled themselves.

"Who was that guy?!" called Orian through the comms in amazed annoyance.

"Don't worry, he's mine," replied Daxius as he saw the Fighter rip into Walush's ship, effectively putting it out of action. Daxius thought he heard HK-7 growl through the comm.

Suddenly in a miraculous manoeuvre the Blue-white fighter turned and faced him, unleashing two missile pods at the ready from its sides. Daxius knew he wouldn't be able to dodge this one...

But then Yiddles swept past at lightning speed as his ship's sharp dorsal fin ripped out the ships underside, stopping it cold. Yiddles gave a whoop for joy, and then proceeded to laugh at HK-7, which Orian wasn't too impressed with.

* * *

A short time later, with all the disabled enemy fighters held in a tractor beam, and the crew safely back in the cruiser, they tried to make contact with the planet. It turned out the world of Kamino had mistaken them for a Seperatist recon ship. When they found that their pilots, which turned out to be clones, were still intact, they showed something close to relief. 

"We would be honoured if you would join us here. Many apologies, but you know how it is, these past two months and the war," the Kamino representative said.

"Can you guarantee us safe passage?" inquired Daxius, still not too sure.

"Yes, we merely wish to recover our clones. If you would like, we can give you a grand tour of the facility. Believe us, you are no threat," came back the transmission. Daxius came to a decision a moment later.

"We'll be down as soon as we can. Send us the landing co-ordinates. Walush, land us down after docking the clone ships," instructed Daxius.

* * *

"Now, where were we?" asked Daxius, sitting down once more. 

"Well..." explained Orian, with a sly grin.


	3. Kamino

"Many Greetings to you, Bounty Hunter. I am Falu Ra. May I inquire as of your names?" said a tall pale Kaminoan as the crew of the FireFly stepped into a large round alcove, in from the torrential rain that plagued the surface of the watery world of Kamino.

"Of course," said Daxius, giving Orian a meaningful glance before he introduced everyone graciously.

Orian crept imperceptibly towards her Negotiations Droid HK-7, asking it to reiterate everything it knew of the current world with twitches of her head-tails in the Twi'lekki language lekku.

HK-7 was still for a moment, and then, stepping towards Orian, whispered with a drawl, "I know it doesn't _exist_,"

Orian couldn't help twisting her head sharply to her droid, glancing at it in surprise, and attracting the attention of everyone in the room. Falu Ra looked at them with a knowing glance.

"Ah, yes. Kamino _is_ a hidden world. We Kaminoans hear very well. You see, we are the producers of the _Grand Republic Clone Army_. So, of course, the location of our world isn't known to any but a select few. And I am afraid that we simply cannot allow our world and our clones to come under threat if any of you decide to let the information slip. We simply don't trust you. Lieutenant-Colonel ARC-KL-335, I leave them to you."

Falu Ra gestured his hand and they were surrounded with a group of white armoured Clones with yellow bands across their helmets and DN Bolt-Casters in their hands. Another Clone, this one with blue slashes across his armour indicating his rank, stepped forward.

"You remember these clones? They're the same crew that engaged you in that impressive display. KL-335 here was particularly tenacious. Now if you would be so kind so as to follow them to detainment and you will be transferred to Coruscant when time permits." Falu Ra tipped his crested head down and they were marched down the corridors. "In another time we would have welcomed such fine genetic specimens as yourselves, but we learnt our lesson long ago," he called after them.

"Nice Flying," whispered one of the Clones to Daxius, but he couldn't tell which, although he suspected it was the blue-striped one.

* * *

The crew of the FireStorm marched down the long hallways, the clones keeping close guard on them. Daxius tried to sense for any break in their formation, but their guarding was flawless.

"You don't want to take us to detainment," he said persuasively.

The Blue striped Clone chuckled.

"Your Jedi tricks won't work on us any more than they would on a Toydarian," he replied, causing a collective gasp from the crew of mercenaries.

"Jedi? _You've_ had Jedi training?" questioned Walush.

"Neither the time nor place," came Daxius' swift response.

Suddenly HK-7 stopped in his tracks.

"Move along, droid," spat one of the Yellow helmeted clones.

"If I were a flesh-bag like you, I would run," sneered HK-7.

There came a faint whistling sound, and the Lieutenant-Colonel lifted up his blue striped head and pressed a few buttons on the side of his helmet.

"Sensors detect Turbolaser Fire! Squad, to the nearest bunker!" he yelled, his hand coming down in swift signs which seemed to be directing his fellow clones towards a different hallway. They ushered the crew towards an armoured supply room quickly and efficiently, just in time to see the spot where they were just standing melt under red Turbolaser fire into molten slag and liquid plastoids. The stormy rain flew in through the opening and they had to struggle against the tunnelled wind. When they were all safely within the bunker the transparisteel doors shut and they could all sit and gasp for breath.

"I'm patching in to central now, sir," stated a trooper with an enlargened antenna on his helmet. A few tense moments passed. "We're under attack! Separatist forces are invading Tipoca City! We must've engaged the wrong ship by accident!" he cried, gesturing toward the apprehensive mercs.

"I knew our ship couldn't have been detected that easily," muttered Walush.

"Damage done, trooper. _Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amu_," said KL-335.

All the clones stood to attention and repeated the Mando'a phrase. There was a moment of silence, which Orian used to ask her droid HK-7 to translate.

"Today is a good day for someone else to die," drawled HK-7 approvingly.

"CC-182 and 248, guard the southern gate. CC-759 and CP-423, western entrance. CP-553 and 173, you take the eastern hallway, ARC-HR-113 and I will take the northern corridor. Everyone else, into the central bunker, and guard those prisoners! I want two troopers on each of them at all times! Troopers, _Oya_!!" KL-335 issued orders swiftly, while the Comm Clone downloaded system maps to see where Separatists had invaded.

"Sir, the bulk of the droid invasion is from the South," the Comm Clone said to the Blue Striped Clone, indicating it on the holo-screen.

"Good work, CM-002, send five more troopers to the southern gate and two more to the North; I'll guard the central bunker in their place.

"Troopers, sir? There seems to be many droidekas in the front line there," said the Comm Clone.

"Droideka's? _Haar'chak! Beskar'ad chaakar!_" cursed KL-335. "Send the Pilots with their DN-Boltcasters then," he ordered.

"I take offence at that," sulked HK-7.

"_Copaani mirshmure'cye, vod?_" hissed one of the pilot Clones to HK-7, jabbing him with his rifle.

"Fine, I'll _shut up _then." continued HK-7 in a hurt tone.

"What do you think all that was about?" questioned Orian to Daxius.

"The commander called all droids scum, then HK took offence, and they asked him if he was looking for a slap in the face," Daxius muttered back.

"You seem to know what you're talking about," she observed.

"Mando'a ain't a dead language yet, Orian," he grinned. "Don't forget who programmed half those tongues into your droid over there."

"Bwweep-Boop?" T3-S6 chirruped questioningly.

"No, I do NOT need a hug," retorted HK-7. "I have no need for further patronizing!"

Essix seemed to laugh at the HK Droid as it skulked to a corner.

KL-335 meanwhile was routinely checking his DC-17 Blasters. After he was satisfied with his firearms, he began testing his armor for any loose plating. When he took off his helmet, Daxius felt a sharp intake of breath.

"…Jango?" he murmured.

* * *

"18. Gimme another card, I'm feelin' lucky. 22. -3 Card down. 19. Stand." Walush the Dug let down his cards and sighed. Playing Pazaak was one way to pass the time under siege, but it was a dull way. They had been sitting in relative silence for the last 15 standard minutes, and Piotr so far had had a winning streak, as his droid T3 trundled along with a juma juice flagon that Piotr would occasionally ask for.

"12. Another. 14. Another. 18. Another. 26! Grr… Stand. Bust!" Yiddles threw his hand down and pointed an accusing finger at Piotr. "Cheat! Fixed cards you got there!"

"I am NOT cheating! I just happen to be lucky! Maybe you should learn when to stand, Yiddles!" Piotr, on a 19, took another pazaak card. He flipped it over and found a 2. Sighing, he took out a negative two card, laid it down, and announced he was standing.

"Well, since us two won, I guess we divide up the winnings," said Walush. Before he could scrape up his half, Piotr stopped him.

"I don't think so," said Piotr, indicating his last card. Walush looked at it and groaned. Not only was it a negative 2, it was a TIE-BREAKER -2, meaning in event of a tie, Piotr would win.

"Cheat I say! How know you that a two you would get?!" screamed Yiddles in his tiny voice. He stamped up and down as he watched Piotr take up all the winnings.

"Just lucky," replied the four-armed Besalisk.

Yiddles' eyes thinned. "What if… this droid I shut down, eh?" he said, turning around and placing a clawed hand on T3-S6. "You see, this droid I always feel, behind me it always is, perhaps at my cards the droid is looking, wouldn't you say?"

"Urm…" started Piotr, starting to get more nervous.

"And know we not the capabilities of this droid, perhaps through the cards this droid can see, perhaps cheater is not you, but this droid?" continued Yiddles.

Walush suddenly got what Yiddles was trying to insinuate. "YOU LIAR! You've been using the T3 droid to look through the cards!"

"Now, now, you guys know me, would I do such a thing?" said Piotr tentatively, backing away. The T3 droid chose this moment to cough up a pazaak card. All three looked down at it, none of them moving for a long moment.

"GET HIM!" the two yelled, leaping at Piotr and tackling him down.

The ruckus was interrupted by a shot of plasma hurtling through the central bunker from the southern gate. KL-335 stopped talking with Orian and Daxius and took out his twin pistols and activated his jetpack, hurtling through the corridor.

"Stay Here if you know what's good for you!" warned the ARC Clone as he disappeared through the door.

Orian cast a worried eye at Daxius. Daxius, meanwhile, had replaced his helm and clicked a concealed button at the side of it. Scanning the room, he was able to detect the footlocker which contained their weapons. He indicated it to Orian.

Orian flew across the room in graceful strides and landed next to the footlocker, her leather bound lekku landing across her back just as her boots hit the plastoid floor with a dull thud. She quickly decoded the lock and the container sprung open, revealing the weapons within. She tossed Daxius both of his Bayne-7 Pistols, HK his Assassin Rifle, Piotr his Vibroblades and Blaster Carbine, Yiddles his poko staff and Walush his slugthrower. Taking her own combat rifle and spinning blade, she strapped them to her hips and got up, only to be met face to face with Daxius, inches away.

"Ahem." he said with a cocked eyebrow. "You forgot something."

Orian looked back in the footlocker and felt her face color. "Here you go," she said, embarrassed, as she handed Daxius his two vibroshivs.

"Thanks, _cyar'ika_," he replied with a grin as he sheathed them. He quickly ran off to join the others and headed down the southern corridor towards the gate, leaving Orian standing there dumbfounded.

"_Cyar'ika_? I'll have to ask HK what that means later…" she mumbled, shaking her turquoise lekku about and running off in the direction of her crew.

* * *

KL-335 ran through the white lit corridors, his breath steady and he cocked his DC 17 Blaster pistols. They had served him well on Geonosis, where he got his first taste for action. He remembered the battle almost affectionately, 0.2 Galactic years ago, the day the war had begun…

"Lieutenant-Colonel! Droideka's are on the move! We're losing men fast!"

KL-335 snapped out of his reverie and back to the battle before him. His tactical mind switched on as he assessed the situation. His pistols would not do much damage against the Droideka shields. He holstered them and pulled the EMP-Launcher from his back.

"228! Get the pilots with the DN Bolt-Casters ready! And see if we can battle-test those new ARC Casters while you're at it!" cried KL-335, issuing swift orders to the clone Trooper.

"Yes sir, right away sir!" saluted CC-228 as he commed the other units.

KL-335 continued down the corridor. The southern gate wasn't far away. As long as he got there before the gate was breached…

"The Gate is breached! Droideka's are coming through! Clones, Scatter!"

KL-335 sighed. It seemed he'd spoken too soon.

HK-7 sprinted down the corridor at amazing speed, his servo's performing at optimum rate. His eyes glowed icy-blue for a moment as the battle-lust pumped through his circuits, and then subsided back to its usual orange glow.

"Killing to be done," it whispered mechanically as it gained on the blue-striped entity otherwise known as ARC-KL-335.

With a leap that took it well over 20 meters forward, it landed just ahead of KL-335 and halted him.

"Sorry, soldier, but I believe _I_ will be able to dispose of those Droideka's far better than a meatbag such as oneself," it stated in its crackly droid voice.

KL-335 responded in kind by lifting up his EMP-Launcher to the HK droids face.

"Try and stop me, _droid_," he said coldly.

HK-7 laughed.

"I'm electro-magnetically powered, don't waste your EMP weapons on me," he said airily. "If you want to go and risk your insignificant little life, be my guest! Just don't get my way."

"Likewise," replied the ARC commander.

The two approached the breached gate together, the clone with his gun barrel ready. They were met with a horrific sight. Dead clones littered the hallway. A hole blasted through the plasteel security gate let in droideka after droideka.

Even Jedi fear Droideka. Their repeating blasters and force fields are a formidable combination. A combination that ironically enough, both KL-335 and HK-7 were engineered to counter.

HK rushed forward and clenched a metallic fist, electrical surges emanating from it as he plunged it towards, and through, a droideka's force field. The fist then proceeded to rip a large fistful of components from the droideka's frame, rendering it useless.

Meanwhile KL-335 raised his EMP Launcher and fired a volley of shots into two droidekas on the right, peppering them with shots. The barrage was too much for the shields to handle and they deactivated precisely when the two destroyer droids released their own hailfire of blaster bolts. Activating his jetpack and leaping high over the blasterfire, towards the ceiling, KL-335 let fly a string of thermal detonators at the crowd of droids below.

HK barely had time to leap away when the grenades detonated. The ensuing blast would have knocked it over had it not extended its traction spikes from its feet and dug into the white floor. When the smoke sufficiently cleared the HK droid rose to its full height and rushed at the remaining Super Battle droids, knocking one over with its shoulder as it impacted into it. Taking it's rifle out, the negotiations droid proceeded to "violently reprogram" the last two Separatist droids; in other words, HK blasted them point-blank in the face until they stopped screaming.

KL-335 landed lightly to the sight of the HK droid still blasting away at the rubble of droid parts, with yells of "Die! DIE!". The Clone commander almost grinned.

_Somebody programmed this droid to be a little too enthusiastic,_ he thought to himself.

He turned his attention to the door. The hole, melted from the outside in, was starting to let in rain. As he peered out, however, his face paled.

"Save your shots, droid," said KL-335 to HK-7. HK-7 stopped his melting of a battle droid arm and looked up. Its eyes flickered in apprehension as it looked out the hole as well.

"I don't suppose you will have any backup any time soon, would you?" asked the droid rhetorically.

"Nope. What about you?" the clone answered.

"Not nearly enough backup," stated the HK-7 droid.

* * *

Outside the gate, through the breached entrance, was an army of Super Battle droids marching towards them. And behind those, over two dozen droideka's. And behind those, a Trade Federation Tank. And on top of that, a Dark Jedi.

The Dark Jedi sneered as he activated his lightsaber. The red glow lit up his face as he patched through a commlink on his wrist.

"We've breached the Southern entrance to Tipoca City," he said maliciously through the commlink. "We will begin invasion shortly."

* * *

Back in the Southern corridor, behind his crew ahead of him, Daxius suddenly stopped running. He closed his eyes and seemed to listen to the outside world around him. His eyes snapped open abruptly.

"I have a bad feeling about this," he said to nobody in particular, as he began to sprint down the corridor once again.


	4. Dark Jedi

HK-7 turned to the blue-on-white armoured clone beside him.

"Give me your weapon," it said, its vocabulator crackling with authority.

ARC-KL-335 passed him the EMP launcher silently. "What are you going to do, droid?"

HK-7 didn't reply as it cocked the weapon, taking careful aim through the hole in the blast door. Its eyes glowed bright red as it locked onto its target, and the trigger was pulled. A bright blue ball of energy launched itself out the blast door, streaking past the Super Battle droids marching down the walkway and exploding on contact with a Separatist tank's front end.

KL-335 smirked under his helmet when there was no apparent effect. "That kind of ordinance won't do much of anything against tanks, assuming that was your intended target."

HK handed the clone back the launcher with a jerk. "Of _course_ that was my intended target, you meatbag, I don't miss!"

The clone shrugged. "Still didn't do anyth--" He stopped abruptly at the sound of a crash.

The tank's front repulsorlift had started to fail, its glow dimming every time the front end bounced against the ground, creating loud bangs that dented the copper coloured tip. Suddenly the repulsorlift failed completely, and the hood of the tank smacked onto the ground as the entire vehicle teetered over and up-ended itself, landing on half a dozen Super battle droids as they scrambled to move out of the way. Then there was a deafening crack as the tank exploded, shrapnel flying forewards and proceeding to pierce the droideka's energy sensitive shields which proved useless against the roaring metal that gutted their systems. The dark figure that had been standing atop the tank had only time to leap impossibly high up, the red glow from his weapon creating a trail in the air down to where he landed in the front ranks, in a crouch sneering.

KL-335 could only stare. "You destroyed near 30 droids and blew up a tank with _one_ shot?!"

HK-7 nodded sombrely. "Would've been more if I had fired a little to the left... I really should get these damned scanners recalibrated."

KL-335 barked out a laugh. "You really are something, droid. You know I-- what's that sound?" The clone tuned around to face down the winding corridor, trying to trace the source of multiple footsteps.

* * *

"Get away from the door!" screamed Daxius at HK and KL-335. "He's about to Force Push it through!!!"

Just at that moment the plasteel gate shuddered in its frame, and burst back. HK leapt at KL-335, pushing him out of the way as the large gate fell down on where they had been. Daxius pulled out his dual pistols and fired into the wreckage and dust cloud outside the room, the rest of the Firestorm crew following suit.

Piotr roared as he used two of his arms to rapid fired the Super's marching through the doorway. Whipping his vibroblades about with his other two arms, he sliced one in half down its middle as he stabbed another in the chest. Walush cocked his slugthrower and blew apart a droideka as it turned to face him, whilst Yiddles leapt about frantically, tripping over droids and breaking apart weapons with his own. Orian carefully blasted at critical points with her combat rifle, backed by her droid HK and KL-335.

It was a short and brutal battle. Soon there were only half a dozen droids left standing, the floor littered with their brother's parts and scrap metal.

* * *

Daxius stood as still as he could, and closed his eyes. Putting his pistols into their holsters, he popped his shivs out of their sheathes and stepped out of the room outside, where the rain was still pouring, the last of the droids behind him obliterated by an exuberant HK.

Outside was the roar of the fire that blocked the passage of any more droids that could be deployed at this gate, but Daxius wasn't concerned about that. He was listening as hard as he could, casting out his senses to filter out the noise of the torrential rain and hear the trademark hum of an energy sword.

The crew of the Firestorm followed their captain outside questioningly. Orian was the first to speak. "Captain? What's the ma--"

Daxius cut her off with a hand gesture, then tilted his head. Snapping his eyes open, he moved his hands in from of him and crossed his daggers in front of him, blocking the Dark Jedi's lightsaber as he struck from seemingly nowhere.

The Dark Jedi sneered. "Force-sensitive," he spat, lip curling. "How unexpected." The Dark Jedi moved his lightsaber again, and Daxius parried with his shiv, striking forward with his other as the Dark Jedi dodged and twirled his blade. The Firestorm crew was watching awestruck as Daxius caught the lightsaber blade between his shivs and parried to the side, then delivered a punch to the Dark Jedi's face. The Dark Jedi fell to one knee, slashed at Daxius, who hopped inhumanly high over the whizzing blade and stabbed downwards, seemingly about to end the battle. The Dark Jedi grinned and held out his palm, fingers splayed, and Daxius had only time for a look of surprise as the Dark Jedi Force Pushed him point blank and threw him back, back, off the bridge and down into the angry ocean below.

* * *

"NO!!" screamed Orian, and the spell that had fallen over the crew broke. They all rushed forward, attacking at the Dark Jedi to avenge their lost captain. The Dark Jedi got to feet and smirked.

"I'll play with you for a little while," he said, and swept his lightsaber around, running into the fray. He immediately sliced through Walush's slugthrower and kicked him, the Dug falling unconscious. Piotr dropped his blaster carbine and tried to grapple the Dark Jedi, missing by a fraction and losing his balance as the Dark Jedi kicked his knees out from under him. The Dark Jedi lifted up his saber to finish Piotr off when HK punched him in the side of the head, his metallic fist crackling with electrical energy. The Dark Jedi screamed in pain and fell to the ground, looking up angrily at the droid.

"Can't...sense droids..." he reminded himself, and then held out his gloved hand. Electrical energy spurted out, catching HK in the chest as the droid's circuitbreaker shut him down to prevent further damage. HK fell to the floor motionless, chest plate scorched.

Yiddles slammed down his staff with all his might, missing the Dark Jedi's head as he leapt up again. The Dark Jedi kicked KL-335 in the chest as he jumped up, throwing the clone off the edge of the bridge. KL-335 managed to grab hold of the edge before he fell. Meanwhile Yiddles struck again and again with his staff, phrik lacing resisting the energy blade of the Dark Jedi's lightsaber. Orian crept up behind him and thrust at him with her spinning blade. The Dark Jedi bent back, flipped over, then landed on Orian's outstretched blade for a split second, cast off and brought his lightsaber down on the surprised Whill in front of him. Yiddle lifted his staff up to block the saber and was driven down by momentum, his head hitting the ground with a sickening crack. Orian let out a gasp of fear as the Dark Jedi turned around to face her, his evil grin growing wider.

Piotr tried to rise off the floor, but the Dark Jedi kicked him swiftly in the gut, staggering him face first. The Dark Jedi lifted up his blade and stood still.

Orian could hear KL-335 behind her trying to climb back up, and knew he wouldn't reach her in time. She struck with her blade, but the Dark Jedi flicked his lightsaber and knocked it out of her hands with disdain. She backed away from him slowly, and felt the edge of the bridge touch the back of her heel. There was no way of escaping. She looked at the Dark Jedi defiantly.

"Good sport," commented the Dark Jedi, and he stabbed at her with the tip of his lightsaber.

* * *

Orian braced herself for the pain, shutting her eyes tight, but none came. She heard a gasp, and her eyes flew open again. She gasped as well.

Daxius stood next to her, dripping wet and dressed in the flight suit he wore under his armour, with the lightsaber blade in his hands.

The lightsaber blade, caught, stopped, in his _bare hands_.

Daxius' brow was furrowed in concentration, and he lifted his gaze up to glare at the Dark Jedi. "This is how it ends," he told him. Daxius pulled at the blade, out of the Dark Jedi's grasp, flipped it in the air, caught it by the hilt and stabbed the Dark Jedi in his shocked face one-handed, the blade driving through his head and out the other side. The Dark Jedi's body stood there, blood gurgling from his mouth, then Daxius deactivated the saber and the body fell limp to the ground.

Daxius stood there, panting, then looked over at Orian and grinned. "I win," he said, then his grin faltered.

"Daxius?!" cried Orian, as the captain of the Firestorm fell to his knees and he vomited blood, falling over.


	5. Achilles

Orian rushed to the side of the captain of the Firestorm, who had fallen unconscious. Daxius's face had turned extremely pale as he laid on the bridge, unmoving.

'_Think, Orian, think!'_ Orian couldn't move the captain on her own, not all the way back to the ship, and even if she could the others were hardly in better shape. Turning her head to look over her shoulder, she spotted Piotr slowly heaving himself to his feet. The Besalisk gasped suddenly and clutched at his chest with one of his four arms, but downplayed it when he found Orian watching.

"Nothing like some broken ribs to help remember a battle, eh?" called Piotr over the sound of the surging rainfall. Piotr stood to his feet and looked around. "We got the dust kicked out of us! Lucky the captain saved the day and all... Hey are you all right there?" he called to a figure crawling up over the side of the bridge.

ARC-KL-335 hauled himself onto the bridge, assisted by Orian. "I'll survive," he replied through his dark-visored helmet. The blue striped clone trooper peeled off a glove and went to check the vitals of the other crewmembers, managing to revive the little green Whill Yiddles.

"Eurgh... pain there is..." he groaned, a small hand reaching up to his forehead, coming back slightly bloody.

Orian checked her Negotiations Droid HK-7 for any damage; for the most part it seemed that HK could be restarted after she fixed the circuit breaker, which had prevented any further damage. Looking up at the flashes that had suddenly filled the sky, she recognised it as blaster fire in the far distance, towards the central hub of Tipoca City.

"The Separatists have invaded Kamino full force. I must regroup whatever remains of my squadron and report back." stated KL-335. With that the crew got ready to head back to their ship; Piotr carried in his arms the captain, HK and Walush, whilst Orian and Yiddles flanked him. KL-335 led the front.

"I will escort you back to your ship, and on the way find my brothers," he told them, and they were led back into the building, down the winding corridor, until they reached the security bunker, where T3-S6 waited. The clone patched in to a terminal on the wall, and a hologram of the immediate area sprung out into the centre of the room. KL-335 surveyed it grimly.

"Most of my squadron has been killed in action, but the East and West districts are under Republic control. We've neutralised the Southern entrance; your ship is to the north, here." KL-335 indicated the Firestorm. "It seems ARC-HR-113 is still fighting up there; I'll bring you to him, then I must go back east and take my fighter to the sky."

Orian nodded at this, but was troubled. "How will we escape when there are probably squadrons upon squadrons of droid fighters up there? We can't manoeuvre thorough that without Walush awake!"

"I'll secure your exit on my way up," promised KL-335. They moved swiftly towards the northern platform where the Firestorm stood, through the gleaming white corridors, T#-S6 following. Two turns later, they heard sounds of battle, and stepped into a room where the walls were scorched and several dead clone pilots lay on the floor. A lone ARC Trooper held the gate to the platform.

"About time, Achilles!" called HR-113 to KL-335. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't make it!" KL-335 grinned at the use of his 'name'; personally he found a designation to be more sensible.

"'_Lek_, well I'm sorry to disappoint you, _vod_." KL-335 noticed HR-113's weapon and indicated it with a nod of his head. "Is that one of the prototype ARC casters? How's it hold up?"

"Terrible! This thing's a deathtrap; CM-002 had one nearly electrocute himself when he left it charged too long! Managed to overload it when we were overswarmed with Supers and took out over a dozen of them, killing himself in the process." HR-113 shook his head in frustration. "I'd like to know why they don't stock any DC-17 rifles here! I don't see why the Commando Troopers have priority over ARC's; _we_ do by ourselves the job _they_ need four to do!"

"Politics; _Ori'buyce, kih'kovid_. They're afraid we'll go rogue!" Achilles and HR-113 barked out a laugh at this. KL-335 turned to HR-113 and gestured to the exit leading to the landing platform where the Firestorm was located. "Any hostiles left?"

HR-113 nodded seriously. "I estimate up to a dozen hiding behind cargo boxes in front of the west bridge. I was going to go around across that part of the corridor that was blasted away when we came in and ambush those Seps, but my jetpack got damaged. You want to do the honours?"

Achilles mentally viewed the layout of the current area, and after a moment made up his mind. "Trade weapons with me; you lead these civilians back to their ship and distract them, I'll fry those droids from behind!"

The two ARC Troopers punched their fists together, and KL-335 sprinted away to circle around. HR-113 gathered the Firestorm crew and gave them their instructions.

"You must walk in single file behind me at all times. I will fire off blasts to distract the enemy as we slowly move down the bridge to your ship. In the case of a grenade thrown, _do not scatter!_ At this close range, the grenades will have a few seconds before they detonate; the nearest will toss it over the side of the bridge, and the rest of us will duck down to avoid most of the concussive force. Close your eyes to avoid any disorientation; I can keep watch by using the polarisation filter in my visor. Nobody try to be the hero; this operation is for _survival_! Are we all clear?"

Everybody nodded their approval. A few moments later, HR-113's comlink crackled with the voice of KL-335.

"--in position. Gettin--...--ttack on my command."

HR-113 shook his head in exasperation over the poor signal. Pressing a tab on the side of his helmet, HR-113 switched on his nightvision and waved everybody into formation.

* * *

Achilles meanwhile leaned against the wall behind him and peered out around the corner. Sure enough, not 50 yards away was a small group of battle droids, 3 of them Super's. Achilles started charging up the ARC caster, sent a signal through the comlink, then, taking a deep breath, dashed out from around the corner towards the droids. 

There was a large section of the corridor missing from the earlier turbolaser fire he and his brothers had so narrowly avoided. Achilles pelted his way across the last few feet and then leapt as far as his legs would carry him, trying to gain every last ounce of horizontal velocity he could. As soon as he felt himself begin to fall, he activated his jetpack and with a reassuring throttle of energy the boosters flared to life, alerting the nearest droid who turned his way to search for the sudden energy spike from its sensors. Achilles carefully timed the rest of his flight and killed the jetpack. To the droid it seemed as if a clone trooper had suddenly fallen short of his target and plunged to his watery death.

"B1-0095726, go check it out," crackled the vocabulator of one of the Super battledroids, and the scout droid walked to the lip of the broken corridor, ignoring the unrelenting rain that passed through. Stopping short of the edge, the droid slowly began to lean over.

Achilles pulled upwards and propelled himself up over the rim of the corridor floor by his fingertips, kicked outwards sharply and dented the battle droid's conical head. The droid fell backwards with a mechanical whine as Achilles released his hold on the trigger of the ARC caster, and the corridor was suddenly aswarm with what seemed to be arc after arc of lightning bolts, which ricocheted off the whitewashed walls and struck several droids that keeled over, their chips fried. Achilles unhooked an ion grenade and popped the pin, keeping his thumb on the clutch. Edging forwards, KL-335 prepared to meet the other 7 droids out of the original 12 sighted.

* * *

HR-113 received the signal and immediately the team moved out of the storage bunker, out onto the bridge which shortly led to the platform where the FireStorm stood. Almost immediately a burst of blaster fire came in their general direction, and HR-113 fired off a blue blast from his EMP launcher in response. The rest of the crew ducked down and slowly they all traversed the remainder of the bridge. HR-113 motioned for them to get into the ship, and then ran with a battlecry directly towards the enemy droids.

* * *

Orian, Piotr and Yiddles quickly scuttled up the ramp into the FireStorm, Piotr setting down the other three crewmembers he carried. T3-S6 came up the ramp soon after and set off for the engine room to directly start up the cruiser. Orian gathered them together and they tried to find the next course of action. 

"Okay, how are we going to lift off? Only the captain and Walush can pilot this thing, and they're both unconscious!" said Orian.

"Know I do, the pilot how to wake." said Yiddles. He went over to the unconscious Dug and looked at him for a moment. Then with a resounding thwack! Yiddles slapped Walush into wakefulness. The pilot let loose a string of Huttese curse words and propped himself up.

"What happened?" he asked groggily.

Soon enough Walush was behind the command console of the cruiser and pressing buttons at his usual frantic pace. Yiddles had closed up the ramp, Piotr was working on replacing HK-7's circuitbreaker and Orian had moved the captain into the small medbay.

* * *

Achilles dodged blasterfire and dropped the ARC caster, drawing his commando pistol. Taking out the fourth to last droid he saw out of the corner of his visor his brother collapsing. With a cry HR-113 fell to his knees and clutched at himself, a smoking hole gushing blood from his chest. KL-335 flew into a fury as he detonated his last ion grenade and kicked the sniper droid who'd shot his brother off the west bridge, letting it fall to its death. Achilles rushed to his fellow clone, cradling him in his arm as he assessed the damage. 

HR-113 coughed, and KL-335 removed his helmet at his request. Pulling his brother close to him, HR-113 uttered his last words.

"I-in water we're born... in fire we die. We... we seed the stars."

Achilles watched his brother's head loll back limply, a strange feeling in his chest making him feel constricted. Laying HR-113 down carefully, Achilles stood up, feeling shaken and numb. Almost mechanically, Achilles marched away, through the corridors he had lived his entire life within, to his fighter ship.

* * *

The FireStorm hummed to life, and hovered upwards, its docking legs retracting. Joined by a blue-striped ship, piloted by ARC-KL-335, the two made their way up into the stratosphere and beyond into space. 

KL-335 said his goodbye's to the FireStorm crew. "You lot have a good set of heads on your shoulders. Good luck." With that he broke orbit with them and swerved towards the nearest conflict in the massive space battle, soundlessly playing out over the blue world below.

Orian sat with Walush in the pilot deck and they watched as the ARC-Trooper flew away. Plucking at a couple of switches, Walush made ready to leap into hyperspace, when Orian gave a sudden cry.

Motioning towards the direction that Achilles had flown, they saw his ship being chased down by a torpedo. Although Achilles barrel rolled and swerved violently, the torpedo still collided with his ship, and a crackle of energy sparked across the small fighter, its systems overloaded and dead. Orian brought up a viewscreen and focused it on the fighter; she could make out the silhouette of the clone, slumped forward in his seat.

"Walush, get over there and pull him in with our tractor beam!" she commanded, the Dug obediently doing so. Carefully the fighter was pulled into the docking bay, scanners showing the clone within was still alive. Orian hesitated, then turned to Walush again.

"Get us into hyperspace. We make for Tatooine. We stay in this orbit any longer and we're bound to get blown out of the sky."

* * *

With a start, a FireStorm's engines began to glow. Ignored by the gargantuan Separatist and Republic destroyers around it, it shot away from the watery world of Kamino, clone in tow, into hyperspace. 


	6. Dreams

The Twi'lek ran into the docking bay, where a blue-striped fighter sat, scorched and lopsided, a wing now twisted metal, in between the carefully arranged ships on either side.

'_At least it made the crash landing right side up,'_ thought Orian, comming Piotr and telling him to come and help. Piotr lumbered in from the droid bay, limping slightly, steadying himself with his four arms. The Besalisk made his way to the fighter, and, giving a grunt, handily ripped the cockpit roof clean off with his bare hands. A whoosh! of air as the vacuum inside was filled, and the unconscious clone fell limp, his back against the seat.

"Look at all that blood! We'd better get him into the second bunk in the medbay, put some bacta on that," exclaimed the Besalisk.

Orian helped him hoist the limp clone out of the dead fighter and they took him through two corridors to the medbay. Once Piotr laid the clone down, they worked to strip him of his blue on white armour, the black flight suit underneath soaked in sweat and rain. Across his head was a large gash, slightly congealed and flowing blood, which they quickly and liberally applied a strip of bacta. His ankle regions were swollen purple; checking with a scanner they found that the bones were cleanly broken and the blood vessels ruptured.

"Do we have any bacta injection cuffs? That'll help heal the internals and knit the bone structure together." Piotr got up and rummaged through a crate in the corner, returning with a pair of metallic rings. Taking them, Orian opened them up and then clamped them over the swollen ankles. Putting her fingers to the clone's neck, she felt a faint pulse.

"I think he's lost too much blood, what are we going to do? The only human around here who can transfuse him any would be the captain, assuming he's even compatible. Besides, the captain is--"

"Hook me up, I'm compatible."

Orian whipped her head around to see Daxius looking over, his face still pale from exertion. With a weak grin he extended an arm and pulled back the sleeve.

"Hurry up and get it over with, I don't like needles."

Orian started to protest, but Daxius assured her he could handle it. She took out the equipment and began the transfusion. Daxius followed her form with bleary eyes. Coughing slightly, he opened his mouth to speak.

"Did I miss much? It's just that... where did... _Manda'beskar'gam dar... Gedet'ye... Ni ceta... to nayc'bajir verd... re'turcye mhi, Jango'vod..._"

Daxius trailed off, lapsing into sleep, still murmuring. Orian watched over the two unconscious humans in silence.

* * *

'_I remember.'_

'_I remember my home. The grass in the wind. The sun on the plains.'_

'_A face looks down at me. I'm lifted, up, up, taken outside.'_

'_I'm given to a man. He takes me away. I can make out stars. Billions upon billions of them.'_

'_I'm older, now.'_

'_My home is different. My family is bigger.'_

'_The Room of a Thousand Fountains. The tap of a Master's gimer stick as he strolls through the halls. I'm led to a room, and we put the helmets on. With a crackle of energy, we play with the robots, catching sparks of light. I see it in my mind. My eyes are still shut, but I can see.'_

'_I've won another duel. I try not to feel too good; Master Tahl says pride is a bad thing. I feel satisfied now. My partner did well. Everyone is finishing off; is it over already? Now I'm starting to feel a little disappointed, but I take a breath, hold it in, and let it go. There. All better. I'm the last one to leave, 'As usual,' chuckles Master Drallig. I nearly bump into a Jedi on the way out, 'Sorry'. I look up to see who it is; I don't recognise her. She smiles at me, a pretty smile. She bends forward slightly, and we're at eye level.'_

_''How would you like to be my Padawan?' she says to me. Her eyes, clear, tell me all that's important. I accept.' _

* * *

'_KL-335. ARC Trooper. That is my designation, my identity. My Life.'_

'_I train with my brothers all. We are assigned positions, so that Fett will know us immediately. Will I live up to his expectations? I glance at my brothers next to me; these two will be my closest companions in the days to come.'_

'_HR-113. LX-113. Funnily enough, they have the same numeric. Odd quirk. Fett is inspecting our section now. Almost subconsciously I stand up a little straighter, my chest puffed out. He makes eye contact with me for a split second. Approval.'_

'_I'm running drills with the rest of my brothers all, in the back row. I trip, stumble, steady myself as quickly as I can and then continue with the run, but I know they all knew. I can hear my steps off-beat; the sprain in my ankle is hurting, but I push the pain away. I am amongst my brothers; give it all I got.'_

'_I meet the med staff during down time. No sense in not being one-hundred percent. Turn's out I pulled my Achilles' tendon, but the kaminii helper fixes me up quicksmart. Another ARC passes me by; I hear he had a twitch in his deltoid region. He chuckles when I mention it, and by the time we arrive at the kai'tome yamika, those are our chosen names: Achilles and Delt.'_

'_Delt was killed in action during Geonosis. Stray missile from a hailfire droid. I only heard about it a couple days after.'_

'_And my brothers. What were their names? Somehow they were the same. I know this. Don't I? My friends. HR-... How are... Who? Where am I?'_

'_What am I?'_

'_To whom it may concern, you are not where I will not be in the sense of...'_

'_...'_

'_...'_

'_...who am I?'_

'_I can't remember. My designation. My identity. My Life.'_

_'Who am I?' _

* * *

'_I feel a little strange. Whenever I am around my Master. Her name is Sienn. 'Master Sienn,' I correct myself. She is young to have a Padawan, apparently; only seven years my senior, at twenty standard years of age. It's the same relative age between humans and Twi'leks. Her skin's a Rutian hue.'_

'_She's looked over at me. Oh no, caught staring again. I avert my eyes, open my mouth to make conversation.'_

'_Why me? I ask. What made you pick me?'_

'_She thinks for a moment, then gives a little shrug. I don't know, she answers thoughtfully. happen the Force willed it.'_

'_She looks over at me again as we march up the stairs to the Archives. Then again, she adds, maybe I thought you were cute!'_

'_I look up in dismay, my face colouring a little. Her eyes are twinkling with laughter, and she gives me a playful nudge. Don't be so bashful, she tells me. I have a feeling that we'll not only be Master and Padawan; we'll be good friends, too.'_

_'We share a smile. In the years to come... it would come to be our smile. Ours.' _

* * *

'_White. All around me. Glowing. It doesn't hurt me. It comforts me. It comforts me while I sleep.'_

'_I'm small. Small and alone. Alone and not alone. I am one of many. We hang here, in our homes of water, we hear each other and the voice that croons to us.'_

'_Welcome, little one. This is your first day... We expect great things from you. You have been born into dangerous times._ _A sharp mind will be the key to survival. But as often as not, it will be your inherent physical traits that win the day...'_

'_We're somewhere else. Us. The GAR. Gar? That means 'you'. We are the you? We are yours. That sounds better. Take us, we are yours.'_

'_A helmet. On my head. It feels like it was made just for me.'_

'_It was. Is. Will be.'_

'_Show me off like a dog.'_

'_All men covered in blood, never touched them but they're drowning in it.' _

'_I don't know what I'm saying.'_

'_I never know what I'm saying.'_

'_Achilles?'_

'_Yes... that is what they used to call me.'_

_'That is my name.' _

* * *

'_No!'_

'_Not this memory!'_

'_I can't bear to go through this memory!'_

'_She's so light in my arms.'_

'_So light, like her spirit's flying away.'_

'_Her eyes flutter open.'_

'_She recognises me. I can see it in her eyes. Her beautiful brown eyes.'_

'_Her mouth opens. My heart wrenches at the pain I can feel in her.'_

'_She says, I... I lo...'_

'_She's fallen limp. Her spirit is gone. And it's taken a part of mine with it.'_

'_I cry, right there, kneeling in the dust, her body cradled in my arms.'_

'_She was my Master.'_

'_My friend.'_

'_My love.'_

'_I have no family.'_

'_The path of the Jedi is one I will never follow.'_


	7. Memory

Piotr climbed up into the flight deck, grunting a little as he pushed himself upwards from the ladder.

"Ladders! What a two-arm concept!" he said aloud.

"Two-legged, in my case apparently," quipped Walush, swivelling around in his chair. Outside the transparisteel window, the anti-space tunnel that was trademark to hyperspace travel loomed. "We'll be arriving in a couple standard hours. How's the crew? The captain?"

"I sent little Orian off to get some shuteye, the HK droid is charging in the droid bay, T3-S6 is in the medbay to alert us if the captain and the clone, Achilles I think the name was, wake up. The blood transfusion was successful enough; a couple of kolto pills in the morning for a week and those two will be more or less recovered. Yiddles is in his bunk, making grenades." At this, the Besalisk shook his head in amusement. "Can you believe that's a _hobby_?"

"Wouldn't put anything past him," replied the Dug. A bleep on Piotr's comlink interrupted his next sentence.

"They've awoken; I'll go get Orian and check on them. You want to come?"

Walush considered, then shook his head. "I should start landing preparations; on a planet like Tatooine, you want to have all your escape routes and entry points figured out beforehand."

Piotr shrugged, and then clambered down the ladder again, giving a grunt.

* * *

Piotr, bringing a sleepy Orian with him, quietly entered the medbay. Daxius was staring straight up blankly, a tear trail drying on the side of his face. On the other side, the clone's eyes slowly fluttered open and closed. A faint scar ran across part of his forehead where a bacta strip had been applied eight hours ago. The clone turned his head as the two entered; Daxius didn't seem to notice them. 

"Where am I?" asked the clone in a raspy voice, coughing slightly.

Piotr took a canteen of water and handed it to the clone. "We brought you aboard after you ship was fried in the battle. We had to jump to hyperspace or risk getting cooked ourselves, and we're en route to Tatooine."

"Tatooine. Desert planet. Ruled by the Hutts. Neutral zone." said the clone automatically. His brows furrowed in confusion. "How do I know that? What do I... _Who_ am I?"

Piotr shared a look of concern with Orian at this. Turning back to the clone, he asked, "You don't remember who you are?"

The clone searched around, as if looking for some clue, and said, "I... I am Arc... Achilles. I think my name is Achilles."

Piotr nodded his head. "That seems about right."

Achilles put a hand to his head, and sat up slowly. "I feel like ten percent."

"Ten percent of what?"

"...I don't know. I meant I feel like dust." Rubbing his eyes, Achilles looked over and saw Daxius. "Who's that?"

"That's the captain, Daxius. He was injured during that fight we had with the Dark Jedi."

Achilles eyes widened. "I _have_ missed a lot. We fought a Dark Jedi? Jedi are our generals. We are under their direct command, and must obey their orders until the day when Order 66 is given by the Supreme Chancellor."

Orian looked at him in consternation. "What's Order 66?"

Achilles started to answer, then looked confused again. "I... don't know." Inspecting himself, Achilles motioned to the cuffs on his ankles. "What are these for?"

Orian replied, "You had a bone fracture and burst blood vessels; we had to use bacta injection cuffs to knit it together again. So what _do_ you remember?"

Achilles searched his mind again, but it proved fruitless. "Nothing but my name and the odd random memory. Do you have any change of clothes? The dried blood look isn't really my style... is it?"

Piotr shrugged and grinned. "We haven't known you very long, but I'd say it isn't. I'll go and borrow one of Daxius' flight suits, you look about the same size."

* * *

Achilles leant back against the wall, letting out a sigh. Taking a swig from the canteen of water, he watched in curiosity as Orian pulled up a stool and sat next to Daxius, smoothing his hair back and wiping away a fresh tear. Daxius' eyes suddenly noticed her, it seemed, and an expression of recognition, joy and anguish flashed across them. Daxius sat up suddenly and enveloped Orian in a hug. 

Orian, though surprised, relaxed into it and embraced him back, Daxius rocking slightly. He whispered behind her shoulder things she couldn't quite make sense out of.

"_Cyar'ika_... I know you're not her. You have to believe me. It's not because you look like her. It's not because you remind me of her. You're you to me. You're not some substitute; you're _you_! She's my past, and a part of me will never stop... but you're here. You are now. And you're my future. Know that. Don't ever doubt that you're _you_ to me."

Orian patted him gently on the back, comforting him. His words soothed her; she didn't know what they meant, exactly, but she could hear the meaning behind them.

"I know. Don't worry; I know." Orian gently laid Daxius down into the bunk again, and he fell asleep once more.

Achilles had lapsed into sleep sometime during the exchange.

And, for a brief moment...

...during that state between awake and asleep...

...he saw the ship, the life within it, and the energy that bound his fate to the universe.

His blood tingled with the new material, the potential it had been given.

* * *

"_I've been with my Master for four standard years now. Our connection is strong. We know each other as well as we know ourselves."_

"_It's why this sudden rift has come up between us. This awkwardness."_

"_I guess we've been doing it for some time now. Exchanging meaningful glances. The odd flirtatious comment. It's only now that we've realised exactly what we've gotten ourselves into."_

"_We're attracted to each other."_

"_It doesn't help that we're so close in age and yet so far in standing. She's my Master; I'm her Padawan. It's the most unspeakable of unions in the realm of the Jedi."_

"_It doesn't help that it's that time of a human male's life when we are becoming interested in females. That my master is so wise, so smart, so beautiful..."_

"_And we've been having the strangest of accidental brushes. We know it's not intentional, at least not consciously. Her leg touching mine when we sat next to each other on that transport ship. Her falling into my arms when that gundark startled her."_

"_Earlier, this afternoon, when she was sitting on the couch of the room that we were provided for this mission. When I walked past, and for reasons unknown to even me, I stopped and gazed at the back of her head, the shape of her shoulders, her neck..."_

"_When I reached out... and traced the back of a finger down the length of her lekku."_

"_We could barely register what had happened right after. We just stared at each other, both in shock, faces coloured. She stepped out quickly, saying something about needing to take a walk to clear her head."_

"_Now it's the dark of the night. I lay in bed, tossing as I try to figure out what's happening. What are these feelings I feel? I hear my Master; she's back from her walk, I guess. I pretend to be asleep in case she checks on me. My door opens, and stays open. After a minute, I finally give up on the act, and sit up. 'What's the matter, Master?'"_

"'_Sienn,' she says."_

"'_What?'"_

"'_Call me Sienn.'"_

"'_Alright then... Sienn. What's the matter?'"_

"'_I've been thinking. About this.' She walks closer, and I swing my feet over the edge of the bed and sit up straight. 'About what?'"_

"_She hesitates. My master... I mean, Sienn, looks into my eyes. I can see she's trying to summon up the courage to say something. I think she's going to do it. She's going to have me transferred to another Master. What else could I have expected? A Master and Padawan can't feel like this towards each other, no matter how much in love--"_

"_She cuts me off with a kiss. A deep, longing kiss. It seems it lasts an eternity, but I have to break it off to ask, 'But what about the Council? They'll never approve of us, Master--'"_

"'_Sienn. My name is Sienn, Daxius. And to answer your question,' she pulls me into another kiss, and this time I kiss her back, until she breaks off for breath. 'To answer your question; do you really care?'"_

"_I don't even hesitate. An abrupt shriek of laughter as I pull her close to me, and we fall back, one hand in the small of her back, the other behind her head, on her lekku."_

_"'Your lekku,' she corrects me. 'I'm all yours, and you're all mine.'" _

* * *

"_It's not because you look like her, Orian."_

"_It's not because you remind me of her."_

"_I loved her very much. As much as anyone could love someone else."_

"_But you're not some substitute. You're not just some replacement to ease the pain."_

"_You're you to me. You always will be. Sienn is a part of my past, and a part of me will always love her."_

"_But you, _cyar'ika_, you're here. You are my now. And you are my future."_

"_Know that. Don't ever doubt that you're _you_ to me."_

"_Not even when I see her instead, for that split second between recognition and memory."_


	8. Tatooine

"_--WE'RE COMING OUT OF HYPERSPACE, PEOPLE; BRACE YOURSELVES.--"_

Walush's voice rang out across the FireStorm, and the crew prepared themselves for the slight jolt experienced when the cruiser burst into realspace. The sudden whiteness of hyperspace flickered into the black that was norm, and as if delayed a great sandy orb rushed into view, filling up the entire view before seeming to abruptly stop; a trick of perception as it was actually the ship which had slowed down and not the other way round. Piotr, who was on the flight deck with Walush, actually took a step back with a slight flinch.

"Cutting it a bit close, eh Walush? A millionth of a parsec more and we'd have been sucked into the gravity well!"

Walush chuckled a little to himself and began calibrating the cruisers entry sequence. "I've go it under control, Piotr; your T3 droid actually helped with the calculations."

Piotr grumbled to himself and muttered something about smart-alec little droids who should know better than to help hot-shot ex-podracing hooligan pilots, much to the amusement of the Dug.

* * *

Stepping down the exit ramp of the FireStorm the crew surveyed the harsh surroundings. A wisp of sand blew across the dusty street, where the twin suns shone down on a plethora of species; Rodians, Trandoshans, Zabraks, you name it, you could find one in Mos Espa. Yiddles, Walush, Piotr and T3-S6 went off to find the local cantina for a round of Bantha Blasters, leaving Orian, her droid HK-7, Daxius and the still amnesiac Achilles to wander the streets. Achilles had on a plain travellers poncho over rough clothing borrowed from Daxius, his only clone armour still usable, the boots and belt, pulled over it. Daxius had changed into more civilian clothes to avoid attention, although Orian had slipped into a more traditional Twi'lekki outfit, her shoulders, midriff and the majority of her legs bare. This actually took attention away from their faces and made them less recognisable if they were seen in their battle outfits, which was the point. 

"It's also just plain _common sense_ to wear less on a desert planet," explained Orian to the clone as he tried to make out the faces of several aliens cooling down beneath a tarp. "On Ryloth, if you didn't wear what apparently is _revealing_ everywhere else you'd bake in your boots!"

"Makes for less defence in a gunfight, though," thought the clone aloud.

"Who'd shoot a bod like this?" laughed Orian, eliciting a grin from Daxius. HK-7 brought up the rear of the group, his assassin rifle held up to deter any thugs who might try something. Daxius took out a datapad from his pocket, and plugged in a small attachment, connecting to the Holonet.

"Okay... there're a few jobs we might be able to take while we're here. Security detail for a merchant junker?"

"Too little pay; plus it's only for a group of three," replied Orian, pointing at the details in the listings. The four stopped under an awning in front of a diner and ordered a round of chilled juma juices, sitting down. Daxius and Orian continued discussing possible jobs whilst Achilles surveyed the area in fascination.

"Extra muscle during a Hutt transaction?"

"No way, that's taking place over the Sarlaac pits..."

"Want to go podracing at the tracks?"

"What, and get exploded? Everyone plays dirty in these races!"

"...Well why not take up this nice dancer job they have available in this cantina down south, would that be more to your liking?"

"They actually have a dancer's job at the southern cantina?"

"...You're not taking it."

"Why not?"

"You can't be serious."

"You know I'm kidding around. What else is there?"

"An assassination job..."

HK-7's mechanical head whipped around and his eyes glowed bright orange with anticipation. Orian sighed and shook her head.

"No, HK."

"Why _not_, master?!"

"Because we're mercenaries, not assassins."

"_I_ am!"

"That's not the point."

"It is _too_ the point! I never get to kill _anything_! How would _you_ feel if you weren't allowed to do what you did best?!"

"...You know what, HK? You're absolutely right. Daxius, I'm taking that dancer job."

"Ha, ha, master. Your wit is as sharp as ever."

"Well what about this, Orian? Some Hutt recently got word on a recently deceased Krayt Dragon fifty clicks northeast of the Lars farm, which is on the outskirts of Mos Eisley. Says he'll pay major credits for anyone who'll bring him the pearl from its belly."

"What's the catch? Sounds like routine salvage to me."

"It's near Tusken territory."

"If you think we can pull it off without confrontation..."

"Should be simple enough, provided we don't meet up with any other people who're after the pearl."

"Tusken Raiders, otherwise known as Sand people, are the indigenous peoples of the world Tatooine. They are considered hostile civilians. Tatooine is run by the Hutts, gangsters hailing from the world of Nal Hutta."

Daxius and Orian turned to stare at Achilles. The clone's eyes widened in slight shock as he processed what he had just said.

"How do I even know that?"

Achilles turned his head to the others, and Daxius exchanged glances with Orian.

"Maybe they trained him up on intel, all of them, make them more independent if they were on solo missions," suggested Daxius. Orian nodded at this.

"Makes sense. Should we even tell him what he is? I know I wouldn't want to know if I were in his position."

"We have to tell him, it's not our choice, it's his."

"Tell me what? What do you mean, 'tell me what I am'?" asked Achilles in a confused tone.

"Well... you're a clone. A clone of the last Mandalore, Jango Fett, bred to serve in the Grand Republic Army. It's your brothers who are fighting in the clone wars that ravage the galaxy now."

Achilles blinked. "Funnily enough... that doesn't shock me. Though I guess it shouldn't." He rubbed his forehead, his eyes squeezed shut. "A clone. This Jango fellow must have been quite the specimen to have been picked to be the template of a whole army, eh?"

"He was the next best thing before a Jedi Master. Better, even, in some ways."

"Daxius, how do _you_ know this Jango Fett?" asked Orian.

"Uh... long story. It was before we met, so yeah."

"Huh. Go figure."

Achilles gave a sigh, and rubbed his forehead again. This caused Orian to look at his strangely. Achilles, noticing this, looked back.

"What?"

"Your head... there's no scar."

"What do you mean?

"You were cut up pretty badly before. We applied some synthflesh and a bit of bacta, but usually that leaves a noticeable scar. You don't have one."

"Lucky me I guess."

"Master, since it is obviously causing you distress, shall I give the meatbag a new scar?"

"No, HK, he doesn't need to be given a new scar."

"But _I_ need to give him one! Let me cut on him a little bit, _please_ master!"

"_No_, HK."

* * *

Meanwhile, another group of four sat down at the table in a cantina. Sighing with relief, Piotr sagged into his seat, stretching his four arms outwards, one of them signalling for the waitress. Walush and Yiddles settled in too, and T3-S6 stood under the table. 

"Three bantha blasters please," said Piotr to the droid waitress, who trundled off after taking the order. Reaching into a pocket, Piotr took out the slightly worn pazaak deck and dealt out cards, Yiddles insisting on T3 coming out from under the table and for all four of Piotr's hands to be in sight at all times, which Piotr sheepishly agreed to. A couple of relaxed rounds of pazaak later, Walush took out his blinking commlink and opened channels.

"Walush here."

"--Walush, we've found a suitable job, meet us back at the ship in a couple of hours.--"

"What, is Orian going to do a dancer gig?"

"_--No.--_"

"Oh c'mon cap'... He closed channels on me! What a lack of humour, that one."

"Your turn it is, your cards put down already!"

"Yeah about that... Piotr's cheating again."

"_What?!_"

"Bweep-BOOT-Dwoo!"

"T3 says he's holding cards in his feet."

"Essix you treacherous little--!"

"Skin you I will!"

* * *

One barfight and several bruises later, the FireStorm crew met back at the ship. Outlining the details for the job, Daxius showed the location of the supposed krayt dragon corpse to Walush. As a finisher, Daxius pulled a tarp off three speeder bikes. 

"I got these broken old speeders off a Toydarian merchant. They weren't working, but I managed to find the parts necessary to get them functional. Piotr, you and Essix repair them. We'll leave for the corpse in the morning."

With that the crew sauntered back into the ship, Daxius staying behind to help Piotr load the speeders into the dock.

They didn't notice the shadow watching them from afar. It stood still for a while, then as quick as a blur darted away.


	9. Buggy Designs

HK-7 sauntered into the holo room, where Yiddles awaited him.

"Greeting Piddles, shall we begin our training session?"

Apparently the little green meatbag took offence for some unidentified organic reason, because his reply was sharp.

"Stupid droid! Yiddles!!!"

HK-7 did not quite know what to make of this, and decided to query the sloshy meatbag.

"I'm afraid I am unable to process your last statement. Whyever did you yell your name at me?"

"Because my name it is!"

This confused HK-7 further.

"Shall I speak like that also? Hunter-Killer Module Seven?"

"NO! Telling you my name I am because right you never get it!"

"So your name is not Piddles?"

"No! Yiddles it is!"

"Did I not just say that?"

"No! Piddles you said!"

"Piddles? Whyever would I call you Piddles? Your name is clearly Piddles."

"WHAT?!"

"What is wrong now?"

"Piddles you called me again!"

"I am afraid you must be mistaken; I was telling you how your name was not Piddles, but was in fact Piddles."

"Piddles you said again!"

"But I did not refer to you as Piddles."

"Yes did you!"

"Perhaps you do not know how to speak Basic? I have noticed how your speech pattern is backwards..."

"ARGH! DIE!"

Yiddles leapt at HK and slammed his staff down. HK easily swiped the staff away with a wave of his arm and caught Yiddles by the wrists, dangling in front of him.

"Let me go!"

"Okay."

HK dropped Yiddles abruptly, and Yiddles fell to the floor, sitting down heavily. HK-7 looked down at him.

"Well, Piddles, I will just grab my stun rifle so we may begin sparring."

Yiddles motioned him away, grumbling a little a little as he picked up his fallen staff.

"Speak to the blue one I must, the droid needs fixing..."

* * *

Achilles unconsciously felt his forehead as he stepped into the dock. Gazing about the room for a moment he noticed Piotr still at work on a speeder, T3-S6 at his side. 

"How are the repairs going, sir?" he asked, walking towards the pair.

Piotr chuckled and picked up a hydrospanner. "Finished the repairs hours ago. Now I'm modding. And call me Piotr, please."

Achilles nodded and surveyed the speeder bike closest to him with interest. "Looks like you've removed the right couple," he said.

"Mmhmm. It don't serve much of a purpose, so I figure why even have one? Better to just take your G-Line and plug it straight into the port pinlock."

"You sound like you know what you're talking about."

"Twelve years as a technician, eight of them as a mechanic. You pick up a few things, although the mod I just told you about I can't take credit for. Learnt it from this genius of a mechanic back on 'Shardaa."

"Don't speeder bikes have notoriety for exploding at the slightest impact?"

"That's because the idiot who designed the speeder decided that they didn't need a cooling system; just run the fuel lines out toward that thin sheet metal at the nose of the bike and you save yourself a couple thousand cred on coolant. So when _anything_ bends the nose of the speeder in a way that'll create a spark, which at 200km/h is pretty much anything at all, you're in for a quick stop and a loud pop."

"Right. I'm assuming you've found a way to deal with that?"

"Nothing I can do; the system is hardwired into the design. If it doesn't cool down that way it'll explode from overheating."

"In that case I'll take care not to hit anything."

"Good plan."

"What's the plan for today? Daybreak is in just under an hour."

"Walush will be landing us down before that. We don't want any of the competition spotting us, so we're in low-power mode. As for our plan, the captain will know."

"Damn right I'll know, I only spent the last five hours making it up,"

Daxius ducked in from the opposite side of the dock, a canteen in his hand. Taking a swig from it, he motioned towards the three.

"Meet up in the common room, and I'll lay it out for everyone."

* * *

"Right. I've gone to the liberty of downloading a map of the current area with Tusken territory marked out. Here," Daxius pointed to a location on the holomap, "that's where the krayt corpse should be, on top of this sandy hill. That's about half a klick northeast. Me, Walush and Achilles will use the speeders to get there and grab our pearl. Meanwhile HK and Essix run scanners in the ship, everyone else patrol the area in your fighters. Krayt pearls are worth enough creds for a lot of people to kill for, so we are taking no chances on this." 

"What happens if we do meet competition?" asked Orian.

"In that case defend yourself. Our main goal is to secure this pearl without taking any hits. Achilles, I trust you know how to use a speeder bike?"

"Looks fairly simple."

"Your reflexes should come in handy. Alright, let's move out; daybreak is in half an hour and I want us to have the pearl in our hands by then."

* * *

Gunning the motor, Daxius pulled back on the lever and the speeder shot out the docking ramp of the FireStorm. Achilles and Walush came out right after, and the three turned towards northeast. Walush gave a loud hooting cheer. 

"Whoooooo!! Stars, this brings back memories!"

"I would've thought so, you speed-freak. Not as extreme as podracing though, is it?" said Daxius through the comms.

"Not even close, but the wind in your face still feels just as good! Hey, watch this!"

With that, Walush swerved into a small sand dune and pulled back on the lever. His speeder shot up it like a ramp and went nearly 10 metres vertical before landing with a spray of sand. Walush steadied the speeder with a huge grin on his face.

"Heads up, we're nearly there," advised Daxius.

"Good, this speeder fells rattly," said Achilles.

* * *

Setting the speeders to a stop, Daxius pulled out his commlink and punched in to the FireStorm. 

"Everything going as planned, people?"

"Scanners detect no possible targets, captain," reported HK-7.

"Me and Orian are coming up above you captain, our scanners aren't picking up anything either." Piotr's voice came in.

"Good. Alert us if you pick up on anything. Out."

A low hum filled the air as Piotr and Orian's fighters flew over the three. They split in different directions and began orbiting the area. Daxius motioned toward the other two and they made for the next dune.

"Looks like the krayt's on the other side of this sand-crater, captain," said Walush.

"That's weird," muttered Daxius.

"What's the matter?"

"...I felt like someone was watching us. Keep an eye out."

"Will do. Let's hurry on, daybreak is in a few minutes."

The three climbed up the soft sand dune, leaving the speeders behind. As they reached the top, the first of Tatooine's suns peeked out from the horizon, bathing the desert in light. Looking over the lip of the crater, they gasped.

"What in Sith is this?" whispered Daxius in horror.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for cutting this chappie short! Promise I'll make it worthwhile in the next chapter!


	10. Tusken Prisoners

A/N: Yeah I haven't updated in a while. I got stuck at a certain point in the story, cookies if you can figure out where. Well, ctually, no cookies. None. You can't have any. Plus I don't actually care if you try to figure out where writers block set in. I'm rambling! Rambling is fun. But not as fun as cookies. And I believe I shall end on that note.

* * *

"What in Sith is this?" whispered Daxius in horror.

Before them in the sand crater was a bloodied field of dead Tuskens and mercs. Dozens upon dozens of dead bodies lay still, blaster-scoring and stab wounds in their chests. There were over thirty Tusken warriors left standing and they were attending to the huge carcass resting atop the other side of the hollow.

"Looks like the mercs were ambushed," said Walush.

"No, that's not it," observed Achilles. "Tuskens hunt down greater krayt dragons as a coming of age ceremony, or other such sacred rituals. It's not a killing taken lightly, since greater krayts are hard to slay and revered among their culture. If anything, the mercenaries tried to ambush the Tuskens, and they fought back to protect their kill."

Daxius getting used to the random trivia Achilles was spouting, and decided to take advantage of it. "What do they do with the pearl? The Tuskens, I mean."

"They have no use for it. Meat is what they're after, and they only take the claws as trophies."

"So we wait until they're done with it?"

"Highly inadvisable; by that time the carcass will be swarming with scavenger animals. You're likely to get an arm bitten off if you try then."

"Well then what in stars do we do?" asked Walush.

"I haven't the slightest."

"Let's head back to the ship and rework our strat--" began Daxius, but the sands behind them suddenly exploded. Three Tusken Raiders burst up out of the ground, their coverings blending into the landscape. With a hoarse cry they lifted the barrels of their guns and pointed them squarely into the three crewmembers' faces.

"Ah, dust."

* * *

"You don't want to detain us," said Daxius suggestively to the Tusken guarding the tent he and the other two were being kept.

"Hrrrrrr! Rgggh Rrrrgh Hrrgh-uh!" the Tusken said back.

"What did he say?" asked Walush from the opposite corner, tied up just like Daxius.

"How in stars would I know? Barely anyone speaks Tusken in the galaxy, and those who do are either Jawas or Tuskens!"

"Well did you put the mind voodoo on him?"

"I don't think so... Possibly it's because he doesn't know Basic..."

"Possibly? You don't know?"

"Hey, if I was that good, would we even be in the mercenary business?"

"Fair enough. How many times _has_ that mind trick Jedi thing worked for you, out of interest?"

"Urm. Counting this one? Never."

"What do you mean, counting this one? It didn't work!"

"Well, that brings the count to "never"."

"How can you _joke_ at a time like this, you should be figuring out a way for us to escape, or--"

"Go to sleep."

Walush suddenly cut off mid-sentence, his head falling to his chest as he began snoring loudly.

"Huh. Go figure, it works for a change." said Daxius.

The Tusken looked over at the source of the alarming sound and howled for another guard, the two of them conversing gruffly before motioning towards the prisoners. A decision was seemingly made and the second guard hauled the unconscious body of Achilles out the tent.

* * *

Dragging Achilles to a second tent across the sandpath, the Tusken kicked the clone painfully in his abdomen, flipping him over as he took out a knife. The pain sent Achilles blurringly into consciousness, and upon seeing an unfamiliar face wielding a weapon above him, his first instincts kicked in.

Achilles' legs moved of their own accord, snapping out and kicking the Tusken's legs out from under him. The Tusken fell to the ground, Achilles flipping over atop his body as he grabbed at the knife, turned it around and plunged it into the Tusken's chest. As the Tusken wailed its last cry, Achilles' eyes flickered as he realised what he had just done.

"What in stars... I... he died so... _easily_..." he whispered in horror, but was unable to continue this train of thought as another two Tusken guards ducked into the tent, gaderfii sticks at the ready. At the sight of one of their own dead, they raised the alarm with hooting yells.

Daxius was discreetly untying his knots when his guard turned to hear the cacophony of yells that engulfed the camp. Cursing under his breath, Daxius shut his eyes tightly and willed his bonds to break with an audible snap. The guard turned to find both his prisoners gone, and proceeded to raise his own alarm.

Achilles looked down at the five other bodies he had laid down to rest, his hands splattered in blood. His growing horror was equal only to his confidence that nothing could stop him short of a bullet to the brainpan. Once threatened, he instinctively went straight for the kill, and the scary part was that even though he consciously didn't want to, something deep inside him simply killed, mercilessly, with a sense of... peacefulness.

"So avoid more confrontations," Achilles whispered to himself. He looked down at his attire; he was still wearing the thin flight suit, but his gear had been taken away, most of it confiscated after a gaderfii stick to the back of the head knocked him unconscious. So where would they have kept the gear they took from prisoners?

A thought occurred. The coming of age ceremony; possibly the equipment had been offered to the newest warrior, so that he might scavenge its parts to create a personal gaderfii weapon. So where would the newest warrior be? Or rather, where would the equipment be; Achilles had a sickening feeling about what might become of the newest warrior should he come face to face with him. His fingers almost itched at the thought of another kill. The equipment would most likely be in a tent with other scavenged parts, which logically would be... where?

No random tidbit of information welled up to help him out. Very well; search every tent, without being seen, despite the fact that every Tusken in the camp was after him and he had no clue where to begin his search. And try not to kill anyone else. Easy enough, not counting the last part.

* * *

Walush was snoring loudly as Daxius struggled to drag him behind a tent. Tusken Raiders had suddenly begun stampeding about the campsite. Daxius looked down at the Dug as he realised the sound of his snoring would soon give them away.

"You want to wake up!" hissed Daxius. The Dug continued snoring.

"Wake up!!" Daxius waved his hand frantically at the Dug. Walush continued snoring.

"Dust!!" Daxius clenched his fists in frustration. He tried to collect his thoughts; he needed his pistols, and he needed a way out. He also needed to find Achilles; the pistols would help him do that. So where were his pistols? Confiscated. Where were they confiscated to? Somewhere. Daxius grimaced at this largely unhelpful internal dialogue. He considered reaching into the Force to sense for his pistols, but he already felt sick from telekinetically breaking apart his ropes and mind tricking Walush into sleep. He hadn't used the Force regularly for over half a decade; Kamino had been his first attempt in a long time. Catching a lightsaber blade whilst shielding his hands with the Force had sent him unconscious for quite a few hours and retch blood; Daxius wasn't looking forward to a repeat incident. So how to locate his gear? Search every tent whilst the camp was in an uproar. Why _was_ there a commotion, anyway? But that wasn't important; there was an easy way to navigate the camp without being noticed.

Daxius's Tusken guard pointed at the empty tent and crooned angrily, motioning towards where the prisoners were to another guard. The other guard nodded and ducked out of the tent, another long call being heard. The first guard shook its head at this bizarre turn of events and turned back to the tent, in surprise finding one of its prisoners suddenly reappeared.

The guard warily stepped up to the human, his gaderfii stick pointing out. He poked the human's side; when the limp body didn't respond, the guard turned to go tell the others that he had found one of the missing prisoners. He didn't get a chance however as Daxius tackled him to the ground, punching him in the head and knocking him out. Pulling the body into a corner, Daxius began dressing himself in the Tusken's clothing.

* * *

Achilles slipped into the shadow of an alcove as a pair of Tuskens stormed past. He waited until they were out of sight, then entered.

'_There,'_ he thought. Shelves made from bantha bones filled the niche, stacked with rows of salvaged weapons and parts. Several of the weapons clearly belonged to the mercenaries killed near the krayt corpse; the blood was still drying. Achilles spotted his utility belt, and reached for the commlink. Pulling it out, he radioed back to the FireStorm.

"FireStorm, come in, this is KL-335, come in please."

"--Who's this?--"

"Quit messing around! The captain, Walush and I have been captured and are currently trapped in a Tusken camp, we need backup!"

"--Sorry, you must have the wrong comm channel, there's nobody called Achilles or Walush aboard the FireStorm. Ending transmission.--"

"Orian! ORIAN! What in blazes..."

A sudden movement from the corner of his eye caused Achilles to fly into action. Rolling over to his side, he flipped a rifle by its strap with his foot and caught it, lifting it and aiming it at a Tusken who was standing by the exit. The Tusken lifted its hands in surprise as Achilles pulled the trigger, but the gun jerked upwards of its own accord and wrenched free from his hands, flying to the Tusken's grip. The Tusken fell to it's knees as it pulled off its headwrap, revealing Daxius, who began dry retching.

Achilles was wide-eyed with horror at what he had nearly done, and scrambled to his feet to help the captain up. Daxius waved him away, motioning to a sack nearby the door. Achilles picked up the sack with confusion, opening it to find Walush snoring loudly inside.

"Get him in here," Daxius said hoarsely.

Achilles dragged Walush inside, checking to see if any Tuskens were nearby. None. He turned his attention back to the captain, who was slowly putting on his gear.

"I radioed back to the ship..." started Achilles, as Daxius cut him off.

"I know, I heard."

"We need to radio in again, I wasn't able to get a clear signal across I don't think..."

"No. There's no point calling in again, they're in no position to help us."

"What are you talking about?"

"The FireStorm has been compromised. Somebody has seized control of the ship."

"How do you know?"

"When you radioed in, you reported yourself as 'KL-335', probably a slip up of habit."

"KL-335?"

"Your clone name."

"Ah."

"Anyway, almost immediately after, Orian said that there wasn't anybody called 'Achilles' onboard the FireStorm. You never mentioned your name in that transmission, so she's obviously lying, but in a way that makes it obvious to us. She was trying to warn us not to go back to the ship."

"So what do we do?"

"We go back to the ship."

"Good."

Achilles pulled on a leather duster over his arsenal of weapons. Brandishing a large Trandoshan stun rifle, he and Daxius, who was carrying Walush, slipped out of the Tusken tent, narrowly avoiding the searching guards. They reached their speeders, kept near the outskirts of the camp, as night began to fall, and stunned the animals guarding them. Silently, they disappeared from the camp, two shadows across the sands.

* * *

They got just within visual range of the FireStorm when they saw it explode in a giant fireball of debris.


End file.
